Wierd and Wonderful Horses

The strange thing that I find about horses, is that they all have completely different personalities. Working on a yard of 60 horses for nearly three years, you get to know them pretty well. You can’t just say ‘the orange one’, because there may be eight orange ones. You can’t say ‘the orange one with a white stripe down its nose, because there may be four that fit that description. You need to know them by name. We had Donya, Twiglet, Nuz, Mattie (a girl), Mikey, Princess, and the two Georges. The two Georges were both tall and orange, and although one had a white stripe down his face and was rather bigger boned, a casual observer would probably not know which George was being referred to. Which is why we ended up with Normal George and Chicken George.

The owners of the two Georges got fed up with the ‘which George?’ question, and trying to find detailed enough descriptions within their vocabularies to specify the George concerned, so they came up with differentiation by personality. And it worked a treat. So we had Normal George, and Chicken George. Now Normal George was a nice horse, fairly relaxed, prone to skittishness and silliness if the wind excused it, but otherwise a fairly sensible and nicely mannered creature. Chicken George however, was another story. As legend has it, when God was handing out bravery, some (including Chicken George), were at the back of the queue. Chicken George was not so brave. He was scared of the farm cat, and would quiver with his rump well and truly flattened against the back of his stable when she would deign to come down from her snug perch and wander around the yard, mingling with us mere mortals. Chicken George would wait for another horse (however small) to go ahead of him when walking down to the field, despite the fact that he went there every day. He would shake if he was out in the rain, and would leap at any loud or unexpected noise, making himself look as large as possible, nostrils flaring, poised on his haunches to run away at the first sign of things looking suspicious. And suspicious covered many things, from genuine unpleasantries such as being clipped, wormed, injected or visited by the horse dentist, to imaginarily harmful events such as being tacked up before being ridden, rugged up warmly before going off to the field, and being fed. Yes, this too was suspicious. Who knew what poisons had been added and needed a thorough sniffing out, who knew what could be discovered if the food was tipped all over the floor and trodden on to check for… suspicious things.

Now these two Georges, both of whom I have a great fondness for, led me to consider God. Because we are all human, we all look the same in that we have bones and skin, we have a certain statue and way of behaving. We all also have means of being distinguished from others ; brown hair, blonde hair, red hair, grey hair, blue eyes, green eyes, brown eyes, spots, freckles, tall, short, fat, etc, the list goes on. But is any of that who we are? Who we really are? Is it those things that mean our parent or partner or friend could pick our description out of many people’s? Or is it something more? I love nature; thunderstorms, lightning, sunsets, silver stars in a dark indigo night, butterflies in bright colours, and lizards that blend in with the sand. I love happy music that I can sing along to, I love descriptive books where I feel like I’m part of someone else’s life; I love fantasies where I am involved in searches to the death for treasure and honour, and salvation of others. I love kids and their honesty, and how they can tell you that you look knackered, or fatter, or have a big spot, with no malice, just a disarming sense of thinking that you’ll be glad they told you. And so many other things that set me apart from you. And there are so many things about you, so many dimensions to you, that I could never hope to really know you, be like you, impersonate you or replace you.

You are unique. You are special. You are made, painted, composed, invented, put together, hand stitched, woven, lovingly made by our creator God. Normal George is lovely. He is a character, he is a friend to many, he is a favourite of many. And so is Chicken George. Utterly different, but equally loved. The same as you, and me, and everyone else. How are you different? How are you set apart from others? You are God’s workmanship. And so am I.